“A child given sedatives that weren’t prescribed for her, over several days, will get sluggish and sink into deep, long sleep,” Gary said.

“If the dose is too high, her breathing could slow to a dangerous point.”

He leaned over the counter and tapped his heavy black pen against a blank notepad.

“Did you ask Julian where he got it?” Gary asked.

“He whisked the bowl into the sink before I could get a good look,” I said.

By eleven thirty, I was standing on the wet wooden boards of Julian’s front porch holding a covered casserole dish full of hot chicken soup.

I knocked twice on the heavy oak door frame and listened to the silence inside the house.